


Lollipops And Pigtails

by PlatinumAndPercocet



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Books, Cheating, F/F, F/M, Multi, Names matter, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Power Exchange, Submissive Character, Too punny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-08 22:37:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11656131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlatinumAndPercocet/pseuds/PlatinumAndPercocet
Summary: Life isn't always sunshine, lollipops and pigtails and no matter how secure things seem, they can fall to pieces. How do you pick them up?





	1. Fruit Punch Lips In The Bright Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Flames_and_Jade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flames_and_Jade/gifts).



> Well, this happened. Another little bit of some weirdness from my head. This is heavy, I won't lie, and there are all kinds of emotions here. It may not be everybody's cup of tea, but I am super proud of it. Comments are forever appreciated and make me squeal. As always, this is 100% unbetaed so any and all mistakes are mine and mine alone. Questions, comments and commentary are more than welcome all the time. Thank all y'all for your time and I hope you enjoy. I have a few chapters of this done, but I have no clue when they will be posted. Sporadic is my game. Gifted to my dear Flames_And_Jade because I love her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this happened. Another little bit of some weirdness from my head. This is heavy, I won't lie, and there are all kinds of emotions here. It may not be everybody's cup of tea, but I am super proud of it. Comments are forever appreciated and make me squeal. As always, this is 100% unbetaed so any and all mistakes are mine and mine alone. Questions, comments and commentary are more than welcome all the time. Thank all y'all for your time and I hope you enjoy. I have a few chapters of this done, but I have no clue when they will be posted. Sporadic is my game. Gifted to my dear Flames_And_Jade because I love her.

*This day was dragging. The library was abuzz with the usual summer patrons; ambitious high schoolers trying to get ahead, senior citizens shuffling in with papers tucked tightly under their arms and a scattering of familiar homeless faces, looking to beat the heat. They kept the library absolutely frigid and I pulled my cardigan tighter around my shoulders to ward off the chill. 

My eyes kept darting to the clock as I closed my teeth around the cap of my pen. I had been done with my work almost an hour ago and, despite still being able to leave two hours early, I had been sitting at my desk in the corner of the currently empty children’s room, tapping the heel of my shoe against the chair in rhythmic time to a song that only I could hear. That was the only thing I didn’t like about this job, I couldn’t wear my earbuds. t was fine when we were busy but afternoons like this, ones where nobody wants to venture into the oppressive humidity for anything. Fortunately in this city nearly everything could be delivered or seemingly put off, although the heat was not an acceptable excuse for why library fines should be waived, much to the dismay of the patrons who asked that daily. 

My knee bounced as I watched the minute hand move almost painfully slowly towards the twelve. If I made it out of here on time today it would be a miracle because no matter how long I sat at my desk with nothing to do, something always seemed to pop up just as I was walking out. Not today. Flipping my pen, I snapped the cap back on and dropped it quickly in the messenger bag that lay propped up beside my old wooden desk, retrieving my phone, earbuds and sunglasses from it’s depths before flipping the flap closed and turning the lock. 

I couldn’t help my smile as I stood, dropping the bag over my head and across my body, my fingers dancing over it. The bag was beautiful, lavender leather with silver stitching, my name embroidered on the inside in shimmery silver script. Just having it close made me smile and I tried my hardest not to bounce as I slipped my sunglasses on and headed towards the back employee exit. ‘Have a good day, Dolores!’ I could barely hear the words over the music that already thrummed in my ears and I spun around and wiggled my fingers in a wave as I walked backwards towards the door. Three steps to freedom. Two. One. Bingo. 

The moment I push the door open I am nearly assaulted by the heat; a wave of humidity that washed over me, sticky and hot. Wrinkling my nose, I headed towards the nearest bench and plopped down, squealing as the hot rivets hit the backs of my thighs. I didn’t waste time, tugging off my cardigan, clunky work shoes and socks and replacing them with a pair of sparkly flats before very carefully placing them in my bag. My hair was heavy and hot, the dark strands already beginning to stick to the back of my neck. This would not do. Carefully untying the silver ribbon that was anchored to my bag, I twisted my long locks up into a messy poof on top of my head, I tied the ribbon tight, satisfied that it would stay put, for the journey home at least. My bag returned to my shoulder, I rose from my bench and headed towards the crowded sidewalk, my gaze straight ahead as I walked, the earbuds in my ears blasting a familiar song. 

I didn’t speak as I walked, not a word, deftly weaving in and out of the crowds that were forever covering the cracked sidewalks of New York. The energy of the city was almost infectious, that buzz that always seemed to be in the air, no matter what was happening. 

Three blocks and two side streets later, I paused in front of an elegant brownstone, eyeing the building for a moment before plopping down on the steps, the granite hot under my bare legs. My bag was gently set beside me and I opened it with the utmost care. The pouch that I searched for was clipped neatly to the lining and I couldn’t help but smile as I pulled it out. Inside were special treats, meant for my eyes only, and I cherished them. Unzipping the small silver bag, I carefully withdrew a silver compact and slender cylinder of lip gloss, balancing both of them on my knees. The ribbon came out of my hair first and I almost frowned as the heavy weight returned to the back of my neck but that was fleeting as I pulled my fingers through the messy waves, smoothing them to the best of my ability, catching sight of my reflection in the small mirror and fidgeting until it lay flat and shining over my shoulders nearly to my waist. Now was my favorite part. Tilting the compact open wider so I could catch a glimpse of my face, I carefully opened the tube of lip gloss and ever so carefully applied it, letting my tongue dart out just a little to get the slightest taste of the fruit punch flavored, sparkly pink gloss. It was my favorite and I only ever wore it on special afternoons. The sunshine, even though it was falling below the trees, was still bright and I squinted as I dropped my sunglasses into my bag and snapped the pouch back into place. My belly was full of butterflies, like always, as I stood and brushed my hands over my skirt, smoothing the pleats carefully before hopping up the stairs. 

I punched in the entry code and waited, my knee bouncing, for the buzzer to sound and allow me entrance. It was an eternity, always. When I finally heard that click, I nearly giggled as I pulled the door open and skipped through the foyer. The house was so elegant and clean, it was almost like stepping into a museum. It even smelled beautiful, like vanilla and freesias. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, I toed my shoes off and tiptoed up the stairs in my bare feet, the shimmery polish on my toes shining in the sunlight that shone through the windows.

I was quiet as a mouse, avoiding the spots I knew squeaked as I headed up first one flight of stairs and then a second to the third floor. It was my favorite place in the world, a sanctuary filled with all of my favorite things and memories. Stuffies, crayons, ribbons, hair slides and my beautiful princess bed with draped fairy lights and so many pillows that I almost lost count. It was my happy place, one where I could be me, more me than I ever thought possible. I paused right outside the closed door, my hand resting on the antique crystal knob. 

The sun shone through the cupola windows, splashing bright patches of light along the plush carpet, I watched for a moment reaching my free hand out and wiggling my fingers just to watch my nail polish glimmer. I loved it here. A sound pulled me from my thoughts and I peeked around for Aurora, my mischievous fluffball of a kitten, to no avail. More likely than not she was simply strutting across my vanity again. She liked sparkly things almost as much as I did. I shook off the distraction and pushed open the door, rushing into the room and stopped dead in my tracks, my eyes wide. The noise was not Aurora, she was sound asleep in a fluffy white ball on my window seat in the sun. I could feel the salty sting of tears in my eyes and blinked as fast as I could to try and hold them back without luck. Soft pillows were scattered all over the fluffy carpet and my pretty white comforter, so neat usually was rumpled and hanging haphazardly off the foot of the bed. My bed. Tears spilled down my cheeks as I stood frozen, staring at the tableau in shock. My throat was dry and I swallowed hard as I felt two sets of eyes on me, one familiar and at one time warm and loving, the other blue and cold, accompanied by an almost satisfied smile. I knew her somehow, but I didn’t know why. Her cornsilk blonde hair was pulled into pigtails, fastened by a pair of purple ribbons that I loved. A single, cracked word was all that I could manage before the dam broke, and I dissolved into sobs * Daddy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from lana Del Rey's Lolita


	2. Mascara Running Down Her Little Bambi Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rainstorm and finding silver linings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So again... this isn't betaed so any and all mistakes are wholly mine. Chapters will be short, for the most part, just little glimpses. The angst factor is high in this one, and I am not sorry. Comments and kudos make me so, so happy and possibly update faster, maybe. If you have questions, cobcerns or suggestions of something you might like to see, let me know, I Love hearing from y'all. So yeah,,babble, babble, please comment and enjoy. Thank you all so much for reading.

The storm that raged outside had had the power flickering all day. The rain was nearly horizontal as it slammed into the windows and the thunder was unrelenting. It was beautiful in every way. Even though I was drenched by the time I had gotten to work, my jeans and Breton stripe top soaked through and my hair dripping, I was happy, for the first time in what felt like forever. While the streets of New York would never be truly empty of pedestrian traffic, the torrential downpours seemed to at least lessen the usual throngs a bit and I took advantage of it, twirling and splashing as often as I could. Miss Mary, the homeless lady that carried a stuffie named Checkers in her shopping cart and always wore a pretty pink tutu even joined me for a little bit, singing at the top of her lungs. 

I had always liked seeing Miss Mary, no matter what. Some people looked down on her, and those like her, as trash or not worthy of their time. It seemed that the better dressed someone was, the more disdain they had for people viewed as below them. It made me sad. Miss Mary had never asked for a thing from me or anyone else that I knew of, but she was often looked at like she was less because of where her choices in life had landed her. I had seen some people be kind to her, offering smiles and sometimes money, handed to her quietly without any fanfare, but more often than not, she was either ignored or treated like some kind of affront, as though her existence was simply offensive to some people. I knew how she felt. 

People tended to judge others based very much on what they saw, as though we were books on a shelf. They thought, because of how I dressed and behaved in public when I had been out with Mister Kevin that they knew me; that they could judge. I got the same looks that Miss Mary did, the disapproving glares and, occasionally, people crossing to the other side of the sidewalk to avoid me. But it was only me. Mister Kevin never had that problem. 

Miss Mary was always kind to me, no matter what, always greeted me with a smile and very often a song, no matter what was going on. She was the kind of person who went out of her way to be happy, no matter what and when she was sad, things just seemed off. It hadn’t happened for a while, thankfully, but when it did, it made an impact on me. Instead of singing and smiling one morning, Miss Mary was huddled down against the wall, her head on her knees. She looked so sad and her eyes, usually so bright and lively, were filled with sorrow. She didn’t ask for help, she didn’t have to, but I gave it anyway. Words were sometimes hard for me to get out, like they got stuck in my throat, so instead of talking, I sat right down on the ground beside her and rifled in my bag, pulling out a stuffie; a pink kitten just the color of Miss Mary’s tutu, with big blue eyes and a heart-shaped nose. I didn’t say a word, just reached out and offered it to her. I’ll never forget that moment, not ever. Her eyes, so sad just a moment before, grew wide and shone in the dim sunlight, and a crooked smile formed on her face as she took the small gift and hugged it to her chest, burying her face in the soft fur. I knew the feeling, I had done it many times before. We didn’t speak at all that day, just sat in the quiet, such as it was in the city, and simply were. As I got up to go, straightening my bag strap over my shoulder, she said one word, just one, and it made me so happy. Checkers the cat had been her constant companion every day since. It didn’t take much to make people happy. Just a small gesture, a kind word or even a smile could make someone’s day. 

It was like that this morning, when I had danced and sung with Miss Mary and Checkers in the rain. It set the tone for the whole day. Even as the storm raged on outside, my heart and spirit were light. I had changed once I got to work, I always kept a spare outfit in my desk just in case, hanging my wet clothes over the back of a chair in the break room. It had been quiet, as rainy days tended to be, the only real excitement coming when the lights flickered but never quite went out. 

The day was almost over when I heard it; that familiar tenor voice that once shook me to my very soul. It still did, although not in a good way. I didn’t even need to see him to know what he was doing. I could hear his footfalls on the polished floor; the soft chuckle and murmured praise, the same words that had once been for my ears. My stomach hurt and I felt a little dizzy as I sat at my desk, my feet twisting beneath me, out of sight. I couldn’t make myself look up, not yet, not until I had to. Busying myself with alphabetizing a stack of DVD’s, I kept my head down until I couldn’t anymore. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to, he simply cleared his throat and set a stack of books and movies down with a thump, the library card resting on top of them. I took it silently, scanning it with a shaky hand before returning it, careful not to make contact because I couldn’t cry, not in front of him, and especially not in front of her. Each item seemed to take forever to scan, as though the system was mocking me. After what seemed like an eternity, I was done and I slid the pile back towards them without a word. ‘What do you say?’ The words were low and almost commanding; my head snapping up out of habit. I opened my mouth to speak, my throat dry, but I was cut off. Her voice was light and airy, like wind chimes on a breezy day but her eyes, so pretty and blue, were cold as they focused on me. Even though the words were were not directed at me, they were meant for my ears. ‘Thank you, Daddy.’ Three words, said so sweetly but with so much malice. I didn't say anything, I couldn’t and instead turned my gaze to my keyboard, willing the tears to wait just a few minutes, just long enough for them to leave. And they did, without a word. I had always felt little, but in that moment I felt small, insignificant in every way. 

I couldn’t be here, not right now, not like this. I didn’t say a word as I gathered up my things, my bag and my pretty umbrella, scrawled a note on a piece of pretty purple paper, propped it up by my name plate and walked out. The lights finally flickered and cut off as I walked out the doors. 

The rain was stinging as it hit my cheeks, drenching me in a blink as I began the walk home. I kept blinking as though if I kept them at bay long enough, the tears wouldn’t fall… maybe they would just go away. maybe, just maybe if I wished hard enough, things would be right again. I wouldn’t hurt, or feel lost. That feeling in my belly would fade… but it didn’t. It just got worse with each step, and I kept my head down, watching the pretty purple glitter on my shoes dull in the mud. 

I didn’t see her standing there, tucked under the awning, out of the rain although she wasn’t dry; didn’t hear her call my name. It wasn’t until I felt the hand on my shoulder, the touch so gentle and unfamiliar that I looked up. Miss Mary, dripping wet, stood behind me with Checkers, dripping from the rain, in her outstretched hand. The gesture was kind and there were no words that I could even begin to find that worked; that could possibly express anything. And so I didn’t speak. I accepted the offering without a word, hugging the stuffie to me, buried my face in the wet fur and cried, the hot tears mixing with the rain on my cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from Lana Del Rey's "This Is What Makes Us Girls"


	3. Linen And Curls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long nights and city lights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another installment of this tale. No real warnings on this one, not really, but there are unicorns! Comments and kudos make me flaily chair dance and questions are always welcome. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my tales. As always, this one is dedicated to Flames_And_Jade because she made me do the thing.

I could see the door closing just out of reach, the matte black paint and shining silver handle somehow disappearing into the stark, harsh white of the wall. The sound was silent, the movement seemingly in slow motion, and yet it echoed in my ears like cannon fire. I tried to speak, to beg the retreating figure to stay but it didn't work. The words that were so clear in my head didn’t make it past my throat, catching there like they had a physical form. Tears welled up in my eyes and I tried, again, to move but it was in vain. My feet, bare and with chipped shards of crimson polish splashed across the nails, were stuck to the spot. Maybe if I could just stretch far enough I could… no. I couldn’t reach it, no matter how hard I tried. And even if I could, for that one brief second that my fingertips brushed across cold metal, it didn’t last. The handle vanished into nothingness, blending seamlessly into the wall. 

I just… I needed to get out, I had to. I could see the world outside the windows at the end of the hallway; the bright green treetops, and birds hopping from branch to branch. The sun, butter yellow and blinding, seemed to dull as it fell through the glass, spreading across the smooth floor like spilled water and vanishing beneath the crack in the wall where the door had been. 

It was so bright it almost hurt, and then it wasn’t. The sunshine and trees that seemed to be so far away were replaced with darkness, creeping and endless as it devoured each inch of light, the white that had been so bright just moments ago twisting and distorting until it was nothingness. I couldn’t stay there, I had to get away, I had to. My feet, just moments ago stuck to the floor finally moved as I struggled and fought, my legs going numb as I crashed to the floor. I tried to stand back up, over and over, and each time failed, the connection between my mind and body somehow severed as I finally started to pull myself over the floor, away from the spreading darkness. For every inch it seemed I moved, the blackness moved three, catching up to me before I could even begin to escape. It was cold, painfully so, as it slicked over my feet and up around my calves like water; the sticky, sharp darkness moving up my legs, paralyzing me as it crept higher until I was frozen, a strangled cry finally working free from my throat as everything went black.

That was what woke , my own scream echoing in my ears as I trashed and pulled at the sheets and blankets. The soft lavender was knotted around my legs, slick from sweat, my comforter long since thrown off the bed. It was the weight over my face that scared me, and I flailed as I hit at the squishy pillow. Finally freeing my eyes, I blinked at the non-darkness, long dark hair hanging in messy curls in front of my face. The constellation light sat on the bedside table, projecting the night sky onto the vaulted ceilings and the night lights of the city just barely shown between the curtains that had been hastily drawn behind my window seat. The adrenaline from my rude awakening was quickly wearing off, leaving behind sticky, sweaty skin and goosebumps from the chill in the air. I reached around blindly, tossing aside the mounds of pillows and stuffies of all sizes until my fingers brushed across the well worn fur of Lady Amalthea for a moment before I hugged her to my chest, inhaling deeply. She smelled of lavender and vanilla with the slightest hint of sugar, perfect and relaxing. “Mrowwww” The sound came from the small shelf above my headboard and I hid a laugh as I twisted to look up at the glowing eyes that seemed to be hovering in the darkness. Kicking at the ropes of sheets, I finally freed myself, setting Lady A carefully aside, and scooted closer to the head of the bed, rising up on my knees and scooping up the mini ball of white fur. Aurora was a mischievous kitten during the day but, apparently in kitten logic, three AM was the best time for shenanigans. Dropping a kiss on the now purring feline’s head, I cradle her in my arms and carefully slip from the bed, my feet sinking into the plush carpet. I padded quietly through the empty townhouse, the silence almost jarring; broken only by the mechanical hum of the central air pumping overhead. I counted the steps out of habit although after hundreds of nighttime wanderings over the last five years, I knew my home almost better in the dark than in the light. 

The carpet beneath my feet gave way easily to slick, black and white tile and I moved across the kitchen to the sink, carefully shifting Aurora into one arm as I reached into the cabinet for a glass. The kitten, of course, took this as a horrible personal affront and yowled pitifully even as she curled against my chest, tiny claws fastening to the soft linen of my pajama top. I plopped a kiss on her fuzzy head as I drifted to the refrigerator, tipping the glass against the water dispenser as it buzzed and to life, the glass chilling beneath my fingers. 

Happy with my beverage, I retraced my steps, kitten in one hand and water in the other, careful not to trip on the hems of my overly long pajama pants. That would be the perfect capper on the night. Fortunately, the journey ended safely and I juggled cat and beverage as I passed my bed, wrapping a fuzzy lilac blanket over my shoulders before settling against the mounds of pillows that covered the cushioned window seat and drawing open the curtains to stare at the city below. The majority of my view was the park but even at this hour I could see cars creeping through the streets amongst the twinkling lights. Aurora, ever helpful, chirped and squirmed, dipping tiny paws into my glass, flicking the water just over the rim of the glass. My laugh was soft as she spattered the cold droplets over my shirt and I dropped a kiss on her fluffy head as I leaned my forehead against the cool glass and smiles as I watched the city lights below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from 'Fucked My Way Up To The Top' by Lana Del Rey. Her neo-Lolita asthetic just works with this one. Expect a lot of her.


	4. No One's Gonna Take My Soul Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walks and rememberences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, another peek into this world. This one was not the easiest to write, but I am happy with how it came out, I think, if it is a bit short for my tastes. 
> 
> Comments, kudos and questions make my world a little bit brighter. I LOVE to know what all y'all are thinking about this story. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading!

When I was young I used to spend hours spinning in circles in Central Park; arms out, head back, long, dark pigtails catching in the wind, and peals of high pitched, carefree laughter bubbling from my lips. I loved that feeling, that lightness; there was nothing that could compare. My nanny, whichever one in the string that happened to have me that day, would watch bemused until I inevitably fell over into a dizzy, ungraceful heap and stared up at the blue sky. Even though I was still, it still spun on and on as I watched, blurry eyes eventually focusing as much as they could. 

It didn’t matter what the season, I could almost always be found there when school let out or on the weekends. There was a small group of us that congregated in the same spots every day; children of well-to-do executives and socialites, dressed in classic and obviously expensive togs and accompanied by pretty but not too pretty nannies. Even in primary school, it was always a competition; who was the best dressed. Who had the trendiest haircut. Who spent the weekend with so-and-so in The Hamptons. We weren’t children so much as we were status symbols, in a sense. By the time I was ten, I realized that I was the equivalent of a Kelly bag and Hermes scarf for my mother and my father, well, I didn’t see him very much; he was kind of a ghost of sorts, drifting in and out of my life in spurts. Even though he was present for every family photo, every coordinated christmas card, it seemed like he was never really there. I always felt like I didn’t belong somehow, whether it was in my house or at school I was always out of place. 

I was awkward and small for my age, I always had been, with too long hair and big eyes that it took me forever to grow into. I looked a bit like an alien for the majority of my formative years and children, being cruel, never failed to point that out to me. Aside from my rag-tag group of park friends, I was alone a lot, revolving door of nannies excepted, and I learned to love the solitude. I found solace in books at a very young age, wandering through the seemingly endless shelves of the same public library that I now worked at. My friends were Anne and Diana; Jo, Beth, and Meg (but not Amy because she was a brat), Emily, Matilda and so many more. I knew their stories by heart and still remembered most of them to this day. Sometimes when I saw a flash of black hair and a lopsided ribbon vanish into the stacks, I was struck frozen, lost in memories. 

Aside from the library, the only other place I felt like myself was at my grandmother’s house. It was a sprawling victorian Bed and Breakfast located on a pond upstate in Aurora. I would spend my summers there, free from the mess and heat of New York. It would have been lonely for many children with no one but the inn cats and an old lady, albeit a spry one, for company, with the occasional visits from guests, but I loved it. Days passed in a blur of turned pages and warm sun on my cheeks; long naps beneath an ancient apple tree and dips in the icy pond. It was idyllic, and even then I was thankful. I still visited there on special occasions, holidays and for two weeks every summer, more to help out than to relax, although I still managed to sneak in a book or four beneath the apple tree or on the window seat of the gable room that I had occupied since I was young. 

As I walked through the rain I wished to be back there again. I had just left a week ago and I already felt empty, but that was par for the course of late. Ever since that day; the afternoon that my world as I knew it had shattered, I felt lost and I didn’t know how to get myself back to normal. I had tried everything I could think of, and nothing worked. All of my various coping mechanisms had failed and there was a constant longing. It was torture, I know, to think of it. Remembering the good times, the days spent out in the city and the nights that had seemed to stretch on forever. I missed it. I missed the safety and the comfort of just knowing that there was someone, one person in that was just as much mine as I was his. Two hours and the opening of a door had brought my pretty world crashing down and I still stood amongst the shards, afraid to move for fear of being cut by them, scarred by the past. 

I had been walking for hours with no destination per se, simply wandering the upper east side, unseeing, music blasting in my ears and the rain falling on my already soaked hair, plastering it to my neck. I didn’t stop until the music died, the throaty, aching voice that had been my soundtrack for the afternoon slowing and then finally stopping. 

A smile pulled at my lips, a real one, for the first time in longer than I could remember as I paused and glanced around. The swings were empty, swaying and dripping in the slight breeze. There was not a soul around; the climbing structure and merry-go-rounds were deserted and thunder roared overhead. It was perfect. I sat down on an empty swing, the chains squeaking as I swayed, and tugged off my shoes and hoodie, setting both in my lap, and pumping my legs to get even a little height before I jumped off, landing in the lush grass, although only just barely. Depositing my belongings on a nearby picnic table, I walked slowly to the middle of the nearby clearing and tilted my head back to look up at the sky. The clouds were dark and almost angry; the rain fall hard and stung my cheeks in the best of ways. Closing my eyes against the deluge, I extended my arms and started to spin around in circles; aimless and haphazard, the wet grass tickling my bare feet and my red dress clinging to my legs. I spun until I couldn’t focus, until my stomach was turning, until my thoughts moved so fast that I couldn’t focus. I spun until I fell over in a heap of tangled black hair, wet scarlett fabric and chipped crimson toe nail polish. The world was still spinning faster than I could comprehend but the silence was not as deafening, not anymore. The wind rustling through the trees and the rumbles of thunder were now accompanied by another sound, quiet but familiar. The giggles that escaped my lips were real and true for the first time in forever and they continued as I lay on my back and looked upwards, watching as the world slowly stopped spinning and everything settled back into place, right as rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Gods And Monsters by Lana Del Rey

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter title taken from Lana Del Rey's Lolita


End file.
